Last night I was lucky to have a chance to dine with some other female s-types. The topic came up about my path in the Lifestyle, and the question posed to me was, “How did you know this is for you? That you arrived where you are supposed to be?”

I outlined the path that MR and I have walked hand in hand together.

From a failing, vanilla, monogamous relationship to part-time bedroom Dominance and submission, to finding our groove in living as full-time 24/7 Dominant/submissive (D/s, in shorthand), and finally our decision to “come home” to who we feel we are as a Master and slave (M/s) living 24/7 in Power Exchange.

That last one, the move from D/s to M/s, was certainly the most difficult for us, even though it was what our hearts were so desperately seeking out.

Rather than focusing on the emotions involved- the severity of the weight that my husband, MR, had to take upon his shoulders, my personal struggle with identifying with such a taboo word as slave, our fear that we weren’t “ready” in some way- I’d like to instead talk about our distinction between D/s and M/s.

The difference for us between the two.

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Our Distinction:

A submissive continuously consents.

A slave consents once, with finality.

A Dominant dominates another person.

A Master has mastered another person.

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MR and I spent time living under a written D/s contract once we knew we wanted our power exchange to take place outside of the bedroom. We scoured the internet for months, seeking D/s contracts examples, crafting each word with precision, finally nailing down what was important to us in our dynamic.

The contract very clearly stated that we put our marriage before our D/s dynamic and that at any time either of us could dissolve the D/s part of our lives and our marriage would remain intact.

So it began.

The lines were drawn, my every move outlined, and right there in black and white was what I was consenting to and what I was most certainly not. I picked my hard limits and soft limits. I picked my safe words (including, of course, when to use them). I decided what kind of punishment and discipline was acceptable or not. As much as it was he was indeed dominating me during those six months, I had indeed impacted exactly what was acceptable and what was not at the beginning of each six month cycle.

Each evening I would adorn my D/s collar and kneel to him. But.

I had power. The power to renegotiate, the power to safe word.

The power to end it all.

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At some point I recognized the truth of my service based dynamic.

The power that I had as a submissive I no longer wanted.

I trusted him. Trusted imperfect, fallible him so entirely to do the best thing for both of us involved, that I was ready to lay to the side that last shred of having control over my life.

He had mastered me. Learned me in ways I had never known possible. Proven his capability to do the right thing even when it is exceedingly difficult.

And I was prepared to stop continuously consenting, and ready to consent once, with a finality.

For us? Finality? Means forever.

We had grown. We had transformed. We were something else.

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Three little changes took place that next contract resigning that turned into one big change.

1. We recognized, and put into writing, the fact that our Master/slave dynamic is equally important (if not more so) as our legal marriage. If one of us wanted to stop living as M/s, there is a likelihood our relationship may entirely be over. Even though we may try to repair the marriage, the reality is our power exchange has become so ingrained into our being, it may not be possible.

2. Safe words became a guideline, a shorthand way of my communicating important physical and emotional status to the man making decisions, instead of a demand. I simply don’t make demands. About anything. I am free to, and encouraged to, express myself and my wants, needs, anything I wish as long as it is presented in a respectful way. The final decision always rests in the hands of MR.

3. We signed our names, and together, we removed the deadline.

We were a Master and his slave.

We had arrived.

 

Kind Regards,

Mrs. Darling

I went out for the evening with Master and a group of others. It was the eve prior to a big family wedding and I was thrilled for the chance to see the group, let off some steam, throw back a few, and dance the night away.

About an hour in, just tipsy enough to brave tiptoeing closer to the dance floor, a (beautiful, wonderful) woman who I know from the local BDSM community sees me, stops me, and the first words out of her mouth were along the lines of: “Darling! I knew that was you, I would recognize your collar anywhere!!”

She embraced me with a big hug, the way we would at any kink event where I look forward to our paths crossing.

But this wasn’t a kink event. And my aunt (mother’s sister) who was in for the wedding was standing two feet to my right.

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If you put your ear to the ground right now you may hear the thumping undercurrent of, “Now… now… *now* is the time to be out,” and quite possibly admonishing if your family and friends aren’t aware of your kink side.

That’s all fine and well and it has even begun to mentally challenge and impact me and my world.

But.

*Every person should have the right to out themselves to the people they choose and in the manner they desire.*

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I know it wasn’t intentional. I am not angry in the slightest. Risk Aware Consensual Kink. We are *risk aware*.

That’s why I write though, for education from not just her faux pas but probably my mistakes of past too. I am sure that I have made the same awkward mistake at some point. If I did, my most humble of apologies. I am so, so, so heartily sorry.

It is so easy for this to happen. We get comfortable together. This woman and I have exchanged dozens of hugs, in various states of undress. I am sure she has seen me cry my mascara off, come onto the floor below me, wait in line for the ladies room together.

Our kink community is small and kind and caring. We like each other. Why *wouldn’t* we say hello crossing paths in the vanilla world?

Because it forces me into a position where I am having to lie to friends and family. Even if not having to explain my scene name and why my “necklace” is being referred to as a “collar,” just the very interaction has to be justified. Families as close as mine ask things like *how do you know her?* and *what’s her name?*

So as I explain away… everything… I am doing exactly the *opposite* of what I want to do. Instead of being out, or continue being silent about the choices in my private life, I am now lying.

As if I am ashamed. As if I have something to hide.

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So a simple rule of thumb *for me* and for the people *who know me*, if you see me outside of a kink event and cannot text me to ask if it’s a cool situation to come say “hi,” let’s agree to mutually give a knowing smile and nod, and continue on with our day’s path.

I promise, I am thrilled to see you. I am thrilled to be in your company even if nobody around us is any the wiser about us knowing each other. I can’t wait to go home and send you a Fet message saying “You looked fucking FAB tonight!” or running to hug your sexy ass the next time we cross paths at a kink event.

Just please, don’t stop and talk to me about Fight Club (Fet Club?) while not *in* the club.

I am grateful for this lesson myself. I will be more conscious, more aware, more diligent. I am glad to grow.

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*(Dear wonderful lady, if you read this, I hope you aren’t upset I am sharing this message and understand why I have addressed it here. I haven’t breathed a word about it to anybody prior to this, and I have no intention on sharing details locally. No harm, no foul, no need to respond. Water entirely under the bridge. I can’t wait until our paths cross on the scene and I can hug your sexy ass again. Big hugs. xoxo darling)*